


Broken Window Serenade

by EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12



Series: Spotify Songfic Challenge [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, But not a songfic, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Sad, Stolen Moments, War Thoughts, inspired by a song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28187883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12/pseuds/EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12
Summary: He tasted like whiskey. Whiskey and fire and soot and sorrow. Every bit of him, his hair, his lips, his fingertips, rooted Cody to the ground as the moved together. It was an intricate dance, not without its missteps. How could it not have them, when the foundations of it were built on ever-shaking earth and sloping ground?It was dance built on stolen moments, in stolen places.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Spotify Songfic Challenge [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038213
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	Broken Window Serenade

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, folks!  
> Another post for the SPotify song challenge! If you want to request a fic for yourself, send a number (1-100) and a pairing.  
> The song is Broken Window Serenade by Whiskey Myers
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Please R and R, let me know what you think :) 
> 
> Find me on tumblr at this same name.

He tasted like whiskey. Whiskey and fire and soot and sorrow. Every bit of him, his hair, his lips, his fingertips, rooted Cody to the ground as the moved together. It was an intricate dance, not without its missteps. How could it not have them, when the foundations of it were built on ever-shaking earth and sloping ground?

It was dance built on stolen moments, in stolen places.

Those stolen places that lingered in his mind. The back flaps of the command tent in the moments after the others had left. On the far side of his Jedi starfighter before he left on another mission that Cody might never see him return from. In the alleys on Coruscant with boxes of take-out food spread between them on the ground. On icy, barren planets where a cave provided them, and only them, a moment of shelter. Best of all, in the commander quarters on the _Negotiator_ where they had fit lifetimes of knowledge into hours that it felt that Cody could count on his hands.

Those were the places that he felt that there story was written. On the battlefield, he was another soldier. Another clone, with slightly better armor and a commendation painted on his chest. On the battlefield, Obi-Wan was another Jedi. Avoiding death by inches and fragments and the force until none of that was quite enough anymore. At some point, they had learned, perhaps death was inevitable. How many Jedi had fallen? How many clones?

Cody did not like to think in those terms. When he thought of the lost faces of his brothers, he did not picture them in battle. He thought of them in the mess, laughing at some joke they didn’t quite have the knowledge to fully understand. He thought of them in the villages they had encountered, aiding children and families with the supplies they always carried with them. He thoughts of all of them who had called him brother, and those he had never known at all. They were not a number. Not a loss count, not a report to file at the end of every mission with his signature that requested replacements from Kamino. He thought, seeing the sadness that weighed heavier and heavier on Obi-Wan with each passing mission, that he felt the same about the lost Jedi.

Now was no different, as they flew to find Grievous on another war torn planet. Utapau. Not one Cody had heard of, but perhaps one he would remember. He remembered a handful of them: The horrid ones like Geonosis. And the extraordinary ones, like their diplomatic trip to Alderaan where Cody had thought he would never see such clear waters again. Or perhaps this planet would fade to shades of grey and green and black like all the rest had always done.

But here, in Obi-Wan’s quarters as the rest of the ship slept in buzzing quiet, Utapau didn’t matter. Greivous didn’t matter. What mattered was Obi-Wan and the taste of his after-dinner whiskey on his lips, the feel of fire in his hands as they moved over Cody’s skin as their clothes peeled away like water and they were all that was left. It was simple and quiet, straightforward and almost unbearably complex all at once. A shade beneath overwhelming, a shade over ecstasy.

In the aftermath of it, Cody let his hands run over Obi-Wan’s skin, slightly sticking with sweat, feeling Obi-Wan’s breath on his shoulder. How many times had they done this? Too many to count, not enough that Cody could ever forget one single instance of it. Would they ever be together again like this? Survival rates for encounters with General Greivous were far lower than other activities in this war, but still higher than others. Or it might be him that died. Droids were not terribly effective, but neither was the outer casing of his armor.

“You’re thinking quiet loudly,” Obi-Wan said to him, his voice so quiet Cody could easily have imagined it. It was not the opening to a conversation, simply an acknowledgement that all of his thoughts could be heard. Shared. Seen.

“Better to get some sleep,” Cody said, and turned to face him. He waited until Obi-Wan’s eyes had closed, keeping any thoughts of anything but this moment at bay. He turned slightly, to where he could feel Obi-Wan’s fingertips against his own and closed his eyes, hoping for a dreamless sleep.


End file.
